


The Lion and the Snake

by TheGuardianofDragons



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gryffindor Alfred, Gryffindor/Slytherin Inter-House Relationships, Harry Potter - Freeform, Hetalia, M/M, Pottertalia, Quidditch, Slytherin Arthur, USUK - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-23 00:46:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6099321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGuardianofDragons/pseuds/TheGuardianofDragons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur Kirkland is a sixth year Slytherin at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. All he wants is good grades and a peaceful life. But how is that possible with an obnoxious Gryffindor, Alfred F. Jones, always seeking his attention? USUK Pottertalia, with mentions of other ships.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Deal

My name is Arthur Kirkland. I am a sixth year student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I'm also a Slytherin, pureblood if it really makes a difference. It obviously doesn't seem to matter to the person following me and calling my name.

"Arthur! Hey, Kirkland! Wait up!"

I continue walking, eyes forward, pretending not to notice. Of course the voice belonged to a classmate, and an irritating one at that. Well, less of a class 'mate' and more of 'just another student'. Alfred F. Jones. He says the F stands for Freedom, though I think Fool suits him better. Jones is a Gryffindor, chaser for their Quidditch team, which is bad enough, but it isn't the end. The worst thing is that he's American, of all things. Strutting around as if he owns the place, and the popularity to support it. Honestly I'm surprised his glasses fit him, at the rate his head is swelling.

"Arthur!" he cries as he reaches me, slinging an arm around my shoulders. I push him off instantly and step away, a scowl adorning my features.

"What?" I snap, not bothering to hide my annoyance. Is five minutes of peace too much to ask for? Rolling my eyes at the kicked-puppy face he makes, I finally stop to face him. I tap my foot to show my irritance, displeased with the fuss he's making. All I want to do is revise for my lessons and improve my grades. Not that I can do it with this idiot around.

"Are you coming to the game this afternoon?" he asks. Oh yeah, I'd forgotten about the last Quidditch match before Christmas being today. Gryffindor versus Slytherin.

"No," I answer simply, bored. "I don't have much interest in Quidditch, plus I have studying to do." Ignoring his crestfallen expression, I shift the books in my arms to emphasize my point.

"Seriously?" He crosses his arms and leans against the wall. "Not even  to support your house?"

I shake my head and shrug. "Nope, we have exams coming up and I need to get some work done, as well as that Charms essay." By the sudden change in his expression from disappointment to shock, I can deduce that he had forgotten about it. Why am I not surprised?

He scratches his neck, laughing nervously. "You haven't even looked at a textbook outside of class this week, have you?" I smirk, amused.

"I was busy!" He protests, "Plus working is boring," he adds, as if to justify himself.

To busy being the Quidditch hero, as usual. I sigh, knowing that he's just as stubborn as I am. I turn away and continue on to my original destination, the library. "If that's all, I'll be going. Bye, Jones." Hearing a snort of protest I shake my head again, but don't bother to look back. Hopefully the git won't follow me, I've had enough of his obnoxious yelling for one day.

"Wait!"

Here we go again. "What now, idiot?"

"Let's make a deal." He smiles his annoying smile, the one that everyone else seems to love for some bizarre reason. I mean, all he has to do is flash his teeth at a passing group and they'll be at his side in an instance. It's rather stupid, to be honest. I can't see why anyone would be caught dead with him.

"What kind of deal?" I ask curiously, though I think I may regret opening my mouth. This can't be good.

"If Slytherin win the game today I'll leave you alone, I promise."

Sure you will. Not.

"But if Gryffindor win then you have to spend a day in Hogsmeade with me." He continues, and my eyes widen.

Of course there's a but. There always is with him.

"I- No! Wait, what-?!" I stutter, immediately apprehensive. There's no way in hell I'd ever want to spend the day with him! That's for all his 'fans' to do, not his rival! At least I hope I'm his rival because I'd rather not like to be considered his friend. Or even his acquaintance. In fact, I'd rather not have anything to do with him at all. Now if I can only get out of this stupid-

"Great!" he grins, ignoring my splutters of disapproval. "See ya, Kirkland!" he waves and walks off, whistling cheerfully. I groan, running a hand through my hair. What on earth just happened? Nevermind, there would be no chance of changing his mind now. Muttering under my breath I shrug, walking up the nearest flight of stairs and trying to make sense of the events of the past five minutes.

Pretty soon I reach the library alone, thankfully. Looks like he gave up annoying me for the time being. But there's no doubt that he'll be back again tomorrow. Or sooner. There's no telling with that arse. It's a wonder he has any friends at all. Well, minus the swarms of girls fawning over him constantly. Yes, Alfred F Jones. Hogwarts heart throb. He's kind, cheerful and helpful, no wonder he's always walking around in a group of students trying to be his friend. Even if it's only to share in his so-called 'fame'. Actually he's just kind of a prat. A very big prat.

I find a quiet seat towards the back of the room and spread my parchments over the available space. Pulling out my Charms paper I start to read through what I have already written, muttering darkly every time I spot an error or something that is clearly inaccurate.

"Damn." I groan, using my wand to erase an entire paragraph and rewriting it again. After analysing it once more, I'm finally satisfied and move onto writing the final page.

I glance at my watch, 14:32. The game starts at 16:00, if I'm not mistaken. Plenty of time to finish, no need to rush. Grabbing the nearest text book I open it to the correct page, and begin making notes on the chapter to add to the end of my essay.

Maybe if I'm lucky I can finish this before the game, so I can head back to the common room which will most likely be empty and quiet. Perhaps I can get some reading done and have some time to myself, possibly write a letter home to my parents to let them know I'll be spending the holidays here at school in order to catch up on and perfect any remaining work I need to do before classes start again in January. Christmas is always cheerful at Hogwarts, and the majority of students go home for a few weeks so the corridors and grounds are peaceful yet happy at the same time. Usually I go home to my family to have traditional Christmas celebrations, but last year I stayed at school because of OWLs, and have decided to stay again to have some time alone.

The next time I check my watch it's already 15:47. I didn't realise, but at least I've finished.

And by the shouting drifting through the open window, the game has finally started.


	2. Gryffindor vs Slytherin

Sighing, I make my way over to the window, peering out. It's not like I'll be able to get work done with almost the entire school outside in the grounds screaming and shouting. Especially the Gryffindors and Slytherins battling in some sort of competition to be the loudest house. Pretty normal though, I guess. I might as well wait until a little later when everyone will have tramped back inside to either celebrate into the early hours of the morning or sit quietly in defeat. Hopefully it'll be Slytherin celebrating tonight, if it is I might even join in with them. That'll show Jones, right? Keep his stupid American arse away from me.

The players walk out onto the Quidditch pitch, each clad in their own colours. There's a sea of colour around the stands too, green and silver mixing with red and gold. Well, not really mixing. There's a distinct separation, even if the colours are right beside each other. Like the students really. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs are also showing their appreciation for the houses, but of course they favour the Gryffindors over us. Everyone loves the Lions, not even listening to us, calling us Snakes. Sure, we can be cunning like the Sorting Hat says, but it doesn't make us all bad people. Some of my friends are like me, we just keep to ourselves mainly, though the idea of poking fun at our house rivals is irresistible sometimes. _Especially_ when Quidditch is in the question.

The Captains shake hands and they mount their brooms. At the sharp ring of the whistle, everyone kicks off the ground and shoot into the air. One by one the balls are released, first the Quaffle, then the Bludgers and finally the Golden Snitch. The Seekers start circling the pitch high above, eyes peeled for the tiny gold ball. One of the Gryffindor seekers grabs the Quaffle, streaking off towards the hoops that our Keeper is guarding. From the booming voice of the commentator, 'The awesome Matthias Kohler scores the first ten points to Gryffindor!'. Ah, so that was who caught the Quaffle. The obnoxious, blonde-haired Dane who has a thing for my Ravenclaw friend, Lukas. Also good friends with Jones. Put the two of them together with Gilbert Beilschmidt, match commentator, then you have three times the nuisance. They're like the infamous Marauders we've heard about on occasion, James Potter, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. Trouble.

Almost half an hour later, the score stands at sixty points to Slytherin and fifty to Gryffindor. We score once more, thanks to Slytherin Chaser Natalya Arlovskaya, scoring straight through the open arms of Keeper Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. I can feel a small smile grace my features, not bothering to hide it. There's cheering and a wave of green flags, and booing from the Gryffindors. Can we win this one? Maybe. Will Jones leave me alone if we do? Probably not. Sure, he's known to stick to his word but apparently not when we're involved. Typical.

The game's still on an hour later, and this window ledge is getting uncomfortable. I pack my things up, putting my parchment and books away in my bad and sling it over my shoulder. Might as well go and see the last of the game, I can't believe it'll go on for much longer, one of them must catch the snitch soon. No one needs to see me, I can slip in and away unnoticed, I'm good at that. I straighten my robes then leave the library, walking down the stone steps through the castle to the main doors and over the bridge to the grounds, the cheering getting louder as I approach the pitch.

I sidle into the crowd of Slytherins along the back row, blonde hair ruffling in the wind, looking even messier than before despite the spells I use to try and tame it. Muttering to myself, I look up, and see the seekers way above. They're still circling like eagles looking for their prey, but even my sharp eyes can't pick out a sliver of gold in the masses. The scores are level, one hundred and sixty points each, and as Jones streaks towards their hoops, taking aim to throw the Quaffle. Both Slytherin Beaters watch, batting a Bludger towards the hoops too, but not at Jones. That's against the rules, even I know that much despite being uninteresting in the actual sport. I do read these things, some are actually quite interesting.

Suddenly, a flash of red and green shoots past our stands, both Seeker's hands outstretched. I stumble as a rush of wind almost knocks me back, but I regain my balance quickly. My eyes dart between Jones and the Seekers, and just as the chaser releases the ball in his hands, there's a shout and almost immediately the students around me erupt with deafening cheers. Our Seeker, Lovino Vargas lands on the ground, hand up, holding out the Snitch in triumph. Even he's smiling for once, but it's hiding a message behind it, I can tell. He's looking at the Gryffindor Keeper with a smirk that seems almost teasing. Who knows what's going on between them. Sometimes they hate each other and other times they can't keep their eyes off one another. I'll leave that to Kiku, another friend of mine in Ravenclaw. Silent and observing, and he certainly knows his stuff, which is why I respect him.

The crowd is on its feet as the players land, Slytherins cheering enthusiastically and the Gryffindors either looking rather annoyed or disappointed. But Jones... He just looks sad, what an idiot. Perhaps he won't come and bother me after all.

Wrong. As the crowd of green walk back up towards the school with me tagging along at the side, cheering a little. I'd hard not to, we did win after all. Just when I think I've got out of the way I hear heavy footsteps running towards me. Oh no, oh no, please no.

"Kirkland!"

Good lord.

I turn to face the American of my nightmares, taking in his appearance. He looks incredibly windswept, hair looking like he walked through a bush backwards. I fold my arms and raise an eyebrow, "What is it, Jones? I'm busy."

He shrugs, glancing at the advancing crowd behind him before gesturing that we walk together.

"You wish," I mutter, but walk beside him begrudgingly as we make our way in with the swarm of other students. "We won, and you said you'd leave me alone if we did. So why are you here?" I try to ignore the hurt in his eyes, and he quickly masks it with a grin.

"Whatever, we let you cause we felt sorry for you. Besides, it's not like I really want to hang around with you anyway." He sighs quietly, almost noticeably, and my gut wrenches slightly.

"Oh, stop looking like I kicked your puppy and stick to the deal. See you, Jones." I say, and walk a little faster.

"Yeah... See ya around, I guess." Alfred replies, and I notice that he stops and goes back to his friends. Huh, he really did leave me alone. Finally, some peace and quiet!

I really didn't think he'd leave just like that, but I'm kind of relieved that he isn't tagging along or following me like before. It seems... Odd.

Anyway, we've got celebrating to do, not thinking about some stupid Gryffindor.


	3. Slytherin Celebrations

Sure enough, when I enter the Common Room I'm surrounded by cheering and yelling again. There are mountains of cakes and sweets, some of which were bring carried around by enchanted suits of armour which were probably the work of some of the seventh-years. There were drapes of green and silver on every surface. Banners, statues, flags and scarves covered the walls and the backs of the chairs. There are also green and silver sparks in the air, forming the Slytherin Snake above, glittering and twisting its way through the air.

The Quidditch team are still in their flying robes, celebrating and dancing around the room, high-fiving each other. Lovino is in the crowd as well, smiling as he's congratulated on catching the Snitch and laughing at how 'awful those Gryffindors were' and how 'Slytherin are definitely going to win the House Cup this year'. Sure, if you say so. Though I wouldn't get our hopes up, it would be nice to win this year. I had enough of Jones rubbing it in when Gryffindor beat us by over 100 House Points last year. Dammit, I'm not putting up with that again. No way. Not even if you paid me one million Galleons and made me Minister of Magic. Someone has drawn the Quidditch team on their brooms, flying between the hoops and throwing the Quaffle to one another and made them move. The small figures zoom over the banners, some of them even managing to make their way into other portraits hanging on the wall to be greeted by the occupants with many cheerful witches and wizards from through the ages. Looking closer, there are even some paintings of Slytherins beating the Gryffindors, them falling off their brooms or laying on the ground while the stands around them erupted in cheers.

Making my way through the crowds, I slip into my chair in front of the fire, unnoticed at first until I hear a call from behind me.

"Hey, Arthur! Aren't ye celebrating with the rest of us?" My older brother, Alistair, leans over the back of the chair, punching me in the arm lightly. Well, as light as a Beater can if they were trying. Actually, I don't think he was trying at all. Rubbing my arm, I glare at him. His red hair is a mess and he still has his goggles on his head, a large smirk on his features as he watches me in amusement.

"Oh, bugger off Alistair, you know I don't celebrate like you do. I have better things to do." I grumble, rolling my eyes. He laughs loudly, shaking his head.

"Don't be such a Buzzkill, Art. It's not like we want ye being a downer though. So cheer up!"

I ignore him and spot a group of sixth-years in a corner with books piled high around them. Probably studying. I don't know how they concentrate with all this racket in the room, but I do admire it. Alistair walks off, back to his group of seventh-years. By the looks of it, they've somehow gotten their hands on some Firewhiskey or something like that. Either way, they're not entirely sober, but when are they anyway?

I take a seat, drawing up a table and laying my things out. Parchment, quill, ink pot and text books with some notes scrawled in them. And.. What the-? Who the bloody hell doodled in my Defence Against the Dark Arts book? It is a small sketch of a stick figure holding a cup of tea, with huge... Eyebrows? Huge eyebrows and a big scowl. And is labelled 'Arthur' in fancy, curly writing. And there's only one person I know with that handwriting.

"Francis." I growl, irritated. Since when did that flirtatious Hufflepuff get his slimy frog-fingers on my books? Oh, last lesson when we were partners, most likely. I sigh, resting my head in my hands. I'd been wondering why he so desperately wanted to work together. Though he always did enjoy bothering me all through my childhood, seeing as we grew up together. Not that we have anything in common, and we're always arguing over something.

I'll have to chew him out tomorrow about it, I think we have Defence in the first lesson tomorrow. Oh no... Alfred's in that class as well. I'll just hope that he doesn't decide to bother me. We sit at opposite ends of the class, after all. Me at the front and Alfred at the back. I just pray he'll stay there.

I pull my wand from my cloak, using it to remove the ink from the pages before tucking it back in my pocket. The ink seemingly sinks into the page, disappearing slowly, one letter at a time.

"Good riddance." I mutter, taking down my notes from earlier while trying to block out the noise all around me. I turn the page, searching for anything else that shouldn't be in here but I can't see anything. There. Flicking through the next few pages, I scan over them. I shake my head, some of my handwriting as atrocious. There's no more ridiculous writing in different coloured inks, no more stupid sketches or doodles. Thank goodness.

A few hours later, people are finally starting to head to bed and the Common Room begins to quieten down. Eventually it's just me and some other sixth-years left studying, the last seventh-years going to bed, laughing as they go. Lovino comes and sits beside me, grumbling about some essay he's just finished in rapid Italian, and about his younger brother being friends with that German in Ravenclaw. I know him through Kiku, quite stern and silent, brother of one of Jones' friends. Not that I've talked to him personally, but I think he's in my charms class.

I decide to call it a night, packing away my things into my bag and slinging it over my shoulder, along with my cloak over my arm. I say goodnight and head downstairs towards the Dormitory, pushing open the door and going to sit in bed. I draw the curtains, but lay awake for a while, my mind ticking.

'Do I really want that American to leave me alone?' Things will be a lot quieter, that's for sure. And... Boring even. Surely it doesn't matter, all he does is irritate people? Though that being said, I have had him around since we were first-years, ever since that first morning on the Hogwarts Express. Honestly, why had he been wandering around the same carriage as I was?

Whatever. Tomorrow's a few hours away, and a completely different day. May be American-free, but it may not be. I hope it's the first option.

At least, I think I do.


	4. Tampered

Breakfast is a quiet affair when I enter the Great Hall the next morning. Each house is sat their tables, keeping to themselves. The Gryffindors are still themselves, but aren't shouting and being as obnoxious as usual. After a quick scan of the hall, I see that Jones isn't in there, so I'm guessing that's the reason why I don't already have a headache. It makes a change, at least and I think I could get used to it. But I'm sure it won't last for much longer.

I sit in my usual seat at the end of the Slytherin table by myself, not really wanting to speak to anyone so I can get onto studying. I have the first two periods of the day free, so I think I'll head outside to work by the Black Lake. I like sitting under the trees, spreading out my books and enjoying the fresh air in the peaceful surroundings. Even just a little serenity during the day puts me in a better mood.

After about half an hour there's still no sign of the American, so I don't think he's going to turn up. Or I've missed him. However the entire Quidditch team has also disappeared, so perhaps they're practising after their loss yesterday. Well, I'll see once I'm out there so I might as well leave sooner or later. I stand up after I finish eating, gathering my books and slinging my bag over my shoulder. Making my way out into the morning air, although the sky is cloudy it isn't too bad, and it isn't raining. But I have my cloak just in case it does, because I don't want my notes, or myself, getting wet. There are already students sitting in the courtyards and heading down the steps towards the grounds, whether it be for lessons or because they have time out of lessons. Most of them are my fellow classmates, so it's probably the latter.

I sit under the apple tree nearest the lake, putting down my bag and getting out my textbooks. parchment, quill and ink. Gazing sleepily over the lake, it seems the giant squid isn't up to the surface yet. I don't blame it, it is rather cold outside and it probably won't show itself until after the Christmas holidays. The younger students enjoy playing with it, studying it. It also seems to play fetch occasionally with that Ravenclaw, Kiku. He seems to enjoy its company a lot. He and I sometimes sit out here during the summer together, quietly studying.

While making notes on my work for Defence Against the Dark Arts, I'm shortly interrupted by shouts and cheers, seeming coming from the Quidditch Stands. Looking up over the trees, I can see flashes of scarlet and black, Gryffindor. I can't quite make out the players from here, but it seems they're having a practice game. Good, they need it after the performance yesterday. As long as they don't decide to try and beat us in the next game Slytherin has against them, we do want to keep our winning streak and I do not want to listen to the Gryffindor jeers when they beat us. Looking a little closer, I can just about make out a number on each of the player's backs, the one speeding across the pitch is Jones, I think. I mean, there's three of them, so they are most likely the chasers. I can see their seeker flying above them, circling like an eagle looking for its prey. Or a hawk, whatever.

I get back to working my Defence, making notes to revise from in time for the end of year exams. Of course, they are a long time away, but I might as well make the most of my time now while I have nothing else to do, rather than rushing all at once nearer the time. It pays to be organised, and I usually get better grades for it. I'm not a Prefect for nothing. I can remember all the buzz for the OWLs last year, but also everyone else rushing to revise while I had mine already.

Suddenly, I hear a shout followed by a scream and a lot of yelling. I look up, trying to locate the commotion, and realise it's coming from the pitch. I think nothing of it until I see one of the players shooting at an usually fast speed across the pitch. I'm not one to be big on the rules, but I'm pretty sure that's dangerous. I stand up to get a better view of the event, seeing the broom shoot straight up into the air before shooting at an alarming rate towards the ground. Something's very wrong, it shouldn't do that. I gather my things and head towards the pitch to see what is really happening. I'm just doing my duties as a Prefect, right? I need to make sure that every student is okay, no matter what house they belong to. I speed up a little, almost jogging as I head through the field towards the outer grounds down the steps. I draw closer, running into the stands as I see the player once again plummeting towards the ground, pulling up at the last moment and screeching to a halt, stumbling onto the floor.

"Bloody hell," I say as the rest of the team lands around the figure, and it's only as I step out onto the pitch that I realise who it is. Of course. Of everyone it could have been.

Jones.

I hesitate briefly before striding over, my posture composed as I reach the group. "What on earth happened? Is everyone okay?" Almost as an answer, there's a groan from the Gryffindor on the floor. I bite back any emotion and fold my arms.

The albino Beilschmidt looks at me with a shrug. "We have no idea what happened, none of our brooms have ever done that before." The other five murmur in agreement before my attention is drawn to Alfred's leg, which is sticking out at an odd angle.

"You should probably get him to the medical room," I suggest, looking around at them. It's best that they tend to him. And someone should take his broom to the Quidditch teacher, see if she can take a look at it. If not, there's always that store in Hogsmeade that might take a look at it." I gesture to the broom a little way off, which seems to be rolling around on the ground and doing little flips now and again with odd bursts of speed. Yes, I think it would be wise to get that checked out before something else happens. But why? Was it really just an accident or did someone tamper with the broom? Whatever it was, I hope it isn't anything serious. Only for the sake of the rest of the students of course.

I watch them all walk solemnly off the pitch, two of them holding Alfred by his arms and legs, still complaining about the pain in his leg or hips or whatever. I follow them soon after, picking up my things from the stands as I go. Checking my watch, it's time to go back to lessons. Though I should probably check up at the hospital wing before dinner, just to make sure he's okay. And still alive. By the fuss he's making, I'll be surprised if one of his team mates don't kill him first.

I pull my cloak tight around me as it starts to drizzle, shielding my notes from the droplets of rain. It's heavy by the time I reach the castle, and I'm running in alongside other students splashing through puddles in attempts to get out of the oncoming storm.

And it doesn't lighten up for the rest of the day.


	5. Tampered

Alfred wasn't in any lessons the next day. Fortunately for me, it meant that lessons were much quieter and much less disruptive, but they were almost a little boring. Unfortunately for me, since I have some lessons with him, it means that I'm the one who has to take him his work in the hospital wing. After asking why his friends, like Beilschmidt for instance, couldn't take them when they visit, but apparently I'm more responsible being a prefect and all.

I have a free period after lunch, so after eating with Lovino and Kiku, I gather my things, as well as Alfred's, and make my way up towards the fourth floor corridor. Nodding at the matron sitting outside the office, I push open the wooden doors, revealing the two rows of hospital beds. There's a couple of first years at the front of the room, the curtains pulled around another, and a figure at the back which must be Alfred.

From the steady breathing I hear as I walk over, he must be asleep. Good. I can get in and out again without any hassle. Or not. I place his things on the side table, hearing a small mumble beside me. "Who's that..?" I glance at him and he opens an eyelid, "Kirkland? I didn't know you cared about me." He grins, propping himself up on his elbows.

"You look like shit." I reply, rolling my eyes, "And I didn't actively choose to be here, I was just dropping off your missed work. Have fun catching up."

He looks over and groans, falling back on his pillow, "Not cool... I could'a died and they would put homework in my coffin!" He whined, pouting miserably.

I snicker, "They're not that kind, you know. They'd probably put in detention slips for everything you've missed."

He sighs, "Ha, ha, very funny Kirkland." and closes his eyes, resting an arm over his face to block out the sunlight streaming through the window.

"Thanks, I try." I mutter, smiling faintly. I cover it quickly however, glancing at my lap and suddenly becoming interested in the papers in my lap.

I hear a quiet, "I saw that" from beside me, but I pretend not to understand.

"Saw what? Your bloody eyes are closed."

"That smile."

I can almost hear the smugness in his voice and I grumble under my breath. "It's a wonder anyone puts up with you, Jones." He chuckles, peering at me through his fingers. His bright blue eyes piercing into mine, reading me, working something out. I raise an eyebrow questioningly but he shrugs carelessly, almost pretending that he wasn't staring at me for a good two minutes. Shrugging it off myself, I lean down to pick up my bag, pulling out a tiny square of parchment. In curly writing, I leave a small 'get well soon' note and leave it on the side as Alfred closes his eyes, making sure he doesn't notice. Not that it would matter, no one else is here, and it's not like he's going to say anything about it in this state. Actually, I wouldn't put it past his arrogant arse, he always seems to make a joke about something. I'm sure that even on his deathbed he'll make a joke. I tuck the parchment under one of his books, next to the seemingly endless amount of cards from his... adoring fans.

Before he gets the chance to comment on anything else I stand up, slinging my bag over my shoulders. "See you, Jones." I mutter, and start heading towards the doors. There's a little shuffling behind me and an American accent calls would for me to wait. Confused, I stop, looking over my shoulder. "Yes?"

"So uh..." Alfred rubs the back of his neck, seeming almost awkward and smiling bashfully. He sits up, grinning at me and I'm instantly suspicious. "Seeing as I missed a load of stuff today... Maybeyoucouldhelpmecatchupwithit?" He quickly mumbles the rest, and I don't catch any of it.

Impatient, I raise an eyebrow once again. "Sorry, I didn't catch that. Can you repeat it?"

"Since you're smart and everything-"

"Get on with it."

"- Could you maybe spare me an hour or two and help me catch up?" He finishes, tilting his head in anticipation, both embarrassed and excited.

Taken aback, I blink in surprise. "You... Want my help?" He nods. "Why can't you ask one of your friends?"

Alfred fiddles with his fingers, attempting to distract himself. "Because they'll make fun of me or something, plus you probably pay attention more than they do."

Probably? Why is that even a question? I don't sit at the back of the classroom making paper aeroplanes and chewing gum, so of course I pay more attention than Beilschmidt and his posse. Still... It's only an hour, what harm can it do? No one needs to know about it, but even if they do, I'm a prefect. It'll just help my reputation with the teachers. Eventually I nod, albeit slightly hesitantly, but Alfred seems not to notice and cheers quietly.

"Meet me after lunch tomorrow afternoon in the library, I'll help you catch up with the notes and things. Though you'll need practice at it, so maybe book an empty classroom with one of your friends. And I'll know if you haven't, so don't let me catch you." I say, smiling faintly.

Alfred nods, grinning to himself. I give him a warning look and he shrugs cockily. "Try me, dude." He snickers. Why am I not surprised?

"It's Arthur." I grumble, annoyed by the name. I'm a gentleman, not a 'dude'. Though it's not like I expected much else, to be perfectly honest with you.

He just smirks, "Sorry Kirkland."

I roll my eyes and push open the door, "Don't be late," I say, before heading out of the hospital wing. As the door closes I hear him collapse back on the bed and mutter something, though I didn't quite catch what it was. It sounded like "score", whatever he meant like that. I get the feeling I'll find out soon enough however.


	6. Studying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the lack of updates, I had lost motivation to write for a while. But I'm back now! And there'll be some proper USUK in the next chapter or two~!

As promised, at lunchtime the next day I begrudgingly made my way towards the school library, a bag filled with spare parchment and text books slung over my shoulder. It's usually empty around this time, except the occasional day where some students have left their studying to the last minute and try to cram for some rest they have that day. And now it's just a question of whether or not Jones will actually show up for this tutoring or whatever it is he wants me to do. It isn't the first time Jones has made commitments and forgotten about them in favour of Quidditch or something like that, from what I've heard. And the occasional party in Gryffindor tower which, annoyingly, the Gryffindor prefects haven't given out detention slips for, despite these events taking place well into the early hours of the morning. One day they'll learn that the need to study rather than do whatever it is they do. Hopefully.

To my surprise, as I round the corner of the corridor and step into the library, Jones is already there on a table near the back, books and parchment out and looking at me eagerly. Apparently I don't do a very good job of hiding my shock, as he grins and waves at me as I make my way over to him.

"Thought I'd be late or forget completely, didn't you?" He smiles, obviously impressed with his own punctuality. "Who's the late one now, Kirkland?" Insufferable git.

"I'm not late, you're just early. Forgive me for wanting to eat lunch like a normal person." I reply quickly, sitting opposite him and taking out my things. "And wipe that stupid smirk off your face." I add, raising an eyebrow. I've seen enough of that smug expression to last me a lifetime, but I get the feeling I'm going to see plenty more of it. This time, however, it's not because he's pulled some ridiculous prank or showing off. At least, not that I know of. Of course, I wouldn't put it past the American, after finding out firsthand what mischievous things he's capable of doing when he's with his friends.

After pulling out my notes, I look up to find him watching me expectantly. "Let's get started, though we have to keep it down, I don't fancy being kicked out by Madam Pince."

Alfred just nods, grinning, "You spend most of your life in here anyway, I bet you're best friends."

I ignore him and continue, "As I was saying, I'm sure we can cover the theory of spells or whatever you want to do, though like I said yesterday, we'll need to locate an empty classroom if you want to practice anything."

"How about we start with Defence Against the Dark Arts, 'cause we're in the lesson together and we prolly did a load of hard stuff." Alfred says, pulling out his Defence test book.

"Probably, and yes, though it wasn't particularly difficult-"

"Dude, you don't find anything hard!"

"Alfred, if you're going to interrupt you can find someone else to teach you. And that isn't true, not everything is easy. I just study." Emphasising the last word, I send him a pointed look which he seems oblivious to. "Anyway, we were going over the basic theory of Dementors-"

"No way! Aw, I can't believe I missed that! ...Sorry." He quickly quietens, glancing towards the librarians desk nervously. But thankfully, she didn't say anything, only glared at him in annoyance and putting a finger to her lips.

I sigh in exasperation, annoyed that he had interrupted me once again. But I let it slide, just this once. "Yes, Dementors. And next lesson we'll be practicing on a Boggart, so you should probably brush up on the Patronus charm. Though I can help you with the notes we made this lesson, so check out page one hundred and two and make notes on what you read."

I watch as he does so, quickly scanning the page of text before his attention is caught by the rather large picture on the next page.

"Artieee. There's so much writing! How am I supposed to make notes on all of it without falling asleep?!" He whines, once again ignoring the disapproving expression I give at that horrible nickname.

I just shrug and point at the page. "Suck it up Jones, the world isn't going to read it for you."

"Can't I just look at your notes?"

"No, absolutely not. Now if you aren't going to work, I'm not going to help you."

And just like that he turns his attention to the text on the page in front of him, quill in hand. Huh. Dipping his quill in the pot of black ink beside his parchment, he starts scrawling notes in messy handwriting which is barely legible to me. Though he seems to be able to read it, so I suppose it will have to do. His brow creases in concentration, frowning at the page in front of him.

At this rate, we're going to be here for most of the afternoon, so I decide to get out an essay and work on that while I wait. I manage to write about a page and a half before Alfred cheers in triumph and shoves a piece of parchment in front of me. It's almost filled with notes, and I can make out some of the words in the untidy scribble. 'Soul', 'Dementor's kiss', 'Patronus charm' and 'Guards of Azkaban prison' are some of these.

"Well done," I smile faintly, and it would seem that I did not hide it quick enough judging by the cheerful, obnoxiously wide beaming expression on the Gryffindor's features. With a cough, I look back down at my own work and finish off my sentence.

"Thanks, Arthur!" Alfred smiles happily, "I think I got it. Though if we are gonna be needing a Patronus to deal with these Boggarts, I'm gonna need to practice first. So...?"

"So?"

"Can you help me, dude? Pretty please?"

I nod slightly, "I suppose. But only so you don't look like an idiot when everyone else knows what they're doing and you don't."

Alfred smirks, smug once again. "Sure that's the only reason. I bet the real reason is that you wanna spend time with the hero. Thanks for helping, but now you gotta start struggling with something so I can help you too!"

Yeah right, not a chance.

"Well, I can't do tomorrow, so how about the day after?" I suggest, packing my things into a neat pile. "In one of the empty Defence Against the Dark Arts classrooms?"

"Hell yeah!" He grins, speaking a little too loudly. Which means that we have to quickly leave the library before we get chewed out by the librarian who was stalking our way.


End file.
